


Irreparably Torn

by DryzleSS



Category: DeeperDown (Zeragii), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Based on DeeperDown by Zeragii, Boss monster magic, Broken Bones, Crying, Determination (Undertale), F/F, Healing, Hurt Sans, Injury, Lies, Pain, Panic Attacks, Poor Sans, Possessed Flowey, Possession, Promises, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Teleportation, Torture, Trauma, Undyne (Undertale) Swears, Undyne Cares about Sans, Unfavorable Deals, Vines, ultimatum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryzleSS/pseuds/DryzleSS
Summary: The being had him right where it wanted him...and all Sans could do was stand there and take it.





	1. Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zeragii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeragii/gifts).



> Another one shot based on Zeragii's "DeeperDown" comic! I wanted to try my hand at a tragedy, so yup! Here it is. Sorry, not sorry. Not all stories have a happy ending; though I know Zeragii says hers always do. Which is a relief, because Sans goes through a LOT in her comic. But here, well...there was a moment in the comic where I seriously thought Sans was getting written (drawn) out of the story. Here's what I thought was going to happen.
> 
> Here's the comic:  
> Here: http://gettingdeeperdownwithundertale.blogspot.com/p/deeperdown.html  
> Or here: https://www.deviantart.com/zeragii/gallery/59842505/DeeperDown-Undertale-Comic

 

**" O h ,   y o u   d o   n o t   l o o k   s o   w e l l . "**

  The voice reverberated within Sans's throbbing skull like a mallet. Pain laced through every inch of him, from bruised bone to cracked skull and shattered wrists. There was nothing else besides it, just burning and that all-consuming voice. He was burning, sweat dripping from his skull as he trembled in his enemy's grip. He was feverish, he was certain, but it was a half-realized certainty, because the world was spinning and hazed and he really couldn't be certain of anything and-

  The vines restricting his wrists tightened and his breath hitched, tears of pain gathering in his sockets as he choked back yet another scream. It was all far too overwhelming. The fibers of the plant material encircling his injured bones ground together like torture, shifting the broken bits of bone into one another, increasing the agony almost to the unbearable. Sans had always had a rather high tolerance for pain, an oddity, given his low HP. But everyone had their limits. And this creature, this _being_ , had found his. 

 **" S o   f r a g i l e , "** the voice cooed, and Sans felt sick at the tone of amusement hidden underneath. He wished for unconsciousness, even though he knew he _couldn't_ give in to it. He couldn't pass out and leave Frisk to this demon's mercy. That child was determined, but there was a difference between standing up for your beliefs and standing up for your life. Frisk had proven time and again her willingness to put down her own safety if that meant getting things right. Frisk would die. She would stand true to her morals and she would die; and there was no coming back from that, not this time. Sans had watched Frisk destroy the reset button himself; watched it shatter to pieces in a flash of blinding light. She had done so as a means of gaining his trust and now here they were, suffering for it.

 

  All because he couldn't trust her without her giving up the one thing that could keep her safe.

  He was such a-

  Sans jolted, shuddering as something began to slither beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric up slowly to reveal his bare ribs. He realized Flowey's face was close to his now, though it hardly looked like the flower he remembered. The red, glowing eyes bore into his own dim, quivering ones, an impossibly wide, thin smile curled all along its face. Even at his cruelest, Flowey hadn't ever looked like that.

**" S o   f r a g i l e . . . T h a t   w i l l   m a k e   t h i s   a l l   t h e   e a s i e r . "**

  The skeleton squirmed, gaze locked with his torturer's, as he tried to move away from the unwanted touch. His wrists protested in sharp, thundering shocks all down his arms, adding to the ache in his shoulders from them being restrained above his head. His feet were barely touching the floor, giving him no purchase whatsoever. He was completely at this monster's whim, it had him right where it wanted him. And all Sans could do was stand there and take it.

  Somewhere in the background, behind the agony and fear raging through him, Sans was aware of Frisk's small voice crying out to him. Begging, pleading for the being to let him go; not to hurt him. Some torment-drunk part of his mind almost laughed at the request. He was already so, so hurt. His HP must be impossibly low at this point, and he hadn't even been in the best of condition when this whole mess had started. 

  The vine tugging his shirt up his ribs was joined by a second, this one solely focused on sliding in between the sensitive bones, causing the captive monster to whimper and try yet again to shift away, but it was useless. _He_ was useless. The vine curled and explored, moving further in and causing Sans's back to arch as his breathing quickened to strained stutters.

 **" S o m e   t h i n g s   s h a t t e r   m o r e   i r r e p a r a b l y   t h a n   b o n e . "**  

  Again the vine shifted, and this time it brushed up against something else. Sans's sockets widened and his soul nearly stopped as the being's words slowly processed in his mind. 

  "d-don't ," he begged, and he didn't care that he was pleading with this devil. The vine was prodding his _soul_ , the very culmination of his _own_ being. It was wrong, and it was invading, and it was so horribly, terribly, unbelievably horrific he almost shut down entirely. His struggling came to an abrupt end, Sans instead focusing on trying to relate that he would do anything other than let this sick freak tear him apart at the core. He shifted his gaze down to the terrifying sight of those vines leading into his chest.

  "please..."

**" A   s o u l   i s   t h e   v e r y   e s s e n c e   o f   a   m o n s t e r ' s   b e i n g ,   i s  i t   n o t ?   E v e r y t h i n g   t h a t   m a k e s   t h e m   w h o   t h e y   a r e ,**

**c o n t a i n e d   i n  o n e ,   s m a l l   v e s s e l .   W e   w o n d e r  . . .  w h a t   d o e s   i t   f e e l    l i k e   t o   h a v e   t h a t   m i r a c l e ,   t h a t   b e a u t i f u l**

**e x i s t e n c e , _C R U S H E D_ .   A n d  _T O R N_ . "**

  The vine wiggled closer to his soul, slowly moving to twist around its side.

**" L e t    u s   f i n d   o u t . "**

  "s-stop" Sans's voice was to weak to hear now. Hardly a breath as he accepted his defeat, just like he always had. Only this time there would be no coming back. He would die, and he would die permanently. 

  "Stop! STOP!"

  Frisk's cries broke the air like a gunshot. Sans wasn't sure if she was just yelling now, or if she had been for a while and he just hadn't heard it. He was quickly falling numb to the pain in his wrists, hanging on to consciousness by a thread.

  "Please, stop hurting him, please!" Frisk begged.

  The being in Flowey's body twisted around toward the human with a look of amused interest. It moved like a serpent, shifting its focus and stilling the vines in Sans's ribs for a blessed moment. Sans barely breathed for fear of reminding the demon of his presence. He need this moment. He needed to gather himself or he would lose it. He still had Frisk to protect; he still had to figure this out.

 **" No w ,   n o w ,   c h i l d . . . C a l m   y o u r s e l f . "** A thin vine moved to rest under Frisk's chin, lifting her tear-stained face to meet that of the Forgotten being. Vines around her arms held her firmly in place, taut between their pull.   **"T h i s   c a n   e a s i l y   a l l   b e   a v o i d e d . "** The vine left her chin, reaching up to brush away a tear.  **" A l l   y o u   h a v e   t o   d o . . . i s   g i v e   i n .   G i v e   u p .   I s   t h a t   s o   h a r d ?   T o   a l l o w   u s   o u r   J u s t i c e   i n   e x c h a n g e   f o r   y o u r   d e a r   f r i e n d ' s   l i f e ? "**

  Sans felt sick. It was using him against Frisk. It was giving the kid a choice; an impossible choice! The shock of that brought Sans a little out of his numb state. Pain rocked through him once again, but this time he ignored it, focusing all his strength into struggling up a little straighter; into trying not to look like the victim he was. Frisk's eyes slowly shifted to meet his, terror and emotional distress shining in them like he had never seen. He could see her asking him, _begging_ him for some conclusion that ended with them both alive and safe, but Sans was realizing that could never be the case. Frisk couldn't give in. She couldn't give up, because that was what this thing wanted. And if there was one concept in life Sans had come to understand, it was that you should never give over willingly that which a villain wants.

  Strung up as he was, with his glowing soul visible beneath his crumpled up shirt, vines posed and ready to dive in, Sans steadied his eyelights, staring back at the kid that he suddenly realized he trusted far more than he thought he did. That he _cared_ for a lot more than he thought he did. He couldn't stop his body from trembling, or the tears and sweat from glistening on his skull, giving away his fear; but he could sure as hell speak his mind.

  "d-don'y you do it, k-kiddo," he strained. Each word was a struggle, but he would be damned if he wouldn't say his piece. "whatever it w-wants...don't give it to 'em. i'll be f-fine..." A lie in a lifetime of lies.

  Frisk looked undecided, but Sans could see she had come to the same conclusion that he had. That she couldn't give up...even if that meant losing him. The child closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks, before she opened them again and gave the Forgotten a glare that would have curdled milk from fifteen miles away.

  The Forgotten's smile grew into a lone, thin and curling line.  **" A h .   W e   s e e .   V e r y   w e l l . "**

  Sans gasped, slamming his eyesockets shut as the vines pushed in, far more firmly this time; going in for real. His wrists burned as he instinctively tried to lower his arms, only succeeding in pulling his feet a little further off the ground before his strength gave out and he fell back down, hanging limp and breath now violently ragged. Fear, pain, and an all-swallowing panic was all he knew. That and that terrible voice.

 **" F e e l   f r e e   t o . . . c h a n g e   y o u r   m i n d ,   a t   a n y   t i m e , "** it crooned to Frisk. It laughed and Sans could feel the jostle of it all through him.  **" T h i s   i s**

**b u t   a n o t h e r   j u s t i c e   l o n g   i n   c o m i n g . . . "**

  Something slithered up the side of Sans's soul and he shuddered, his mind blanking. He could feel the sharpened point of the vine moving into position. The voice spoke again, and Sans was vaguely aware that it was addressing him this time.

 **" L e t   u s   s e e   h o w   f u n n y   y o u   a r e   w i t h   a   c r a c k   d o w n   t h e   c e n t e r   o f   y o u r   s o u l . "**  

  There was a sharp pressure, and then Sans  s c r e a m e d.

  If agony was all he had ever known, this was something far, far worse. His consciousness, his beliefs, his emotions, his past; everything that made him who he was was suddenly laid bare and vulnerable, scratched and pierced in a way that Chara's knife had never been able to hurt him. The world as he knew it fell away, replaced with a searing white. His existence was being shattered, a vine forcing its way through its center, trying to cleave the organ of his essence slowly, tortuously in two.

  The scream tore from him every ounce of air and voice he had, only for him to drag in a frantic half-breath and continue...

  He wasn't sure how long the pain lasted. It didn't really end, it just became...less. But even that was considerably more agonizing than most people would ever experience in their lives. And then the world was slowly fading back, and he was hanging limp in the vines around his wrists, gasping pitifully and murmuring out delirious, half formed pleas to 'please stop'. His bones were rattling so hard the sound of it filled the Hall. There was nothing else besides it; no words from Frisk, no taunts from his captor. Nothing. Just his whimpers and ragged pants for air.

  And then.

 **" F i n a l   c h a n c e ,   c h i l d , "** the Forgotten spoke lowly. As though it too sensed the cruel severity of what it had just done. What it was about to do.  **" H e   i s**

**d a m a g e d .   B u t   h e   i s   a l i v e .   Y o u r   g i v i n g   i n   c o u l d   s a v e   h i m . "**

  Sans wanted to cut in, tell Frisk that letting him live now would be no mercy. His soul was cracked. There was no healing that could fix that. The pain would never leave. He would live in agony the rest of his life. But when he tried to speak, nothing came out. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

  "S-Sans..." Frisk sounded so broken. This was killing her. "Sans, I-I'm...I'm so s-sorry..." She was crying. He couldn't see her; he couldn't lift his head to look, but he knew she was.

**" M a k e   y o u r   c h o i c e . "**

  It thought it had her. It thought it was winning. It thought Sans was the perfect leverage.

  It was wrong.

  "I-I...I c-can't..."

  Sans felt both relieved and betrayed. He hung heavier in his bindings as they tightened, holding back a groan. He felt the vines around his soul shift once more, getting back into position.

**" A s   y o u   w i s h . "**

  Frisk was a good kid. Sans couldn't have asked for a better friend, and he sincerely hoped she wouldn't blame herself for this. It was wishful thinking, but he was entitled that, wasn't he? As a sort of...last request? The kiddo was strong. Without him to drag her down, to be used as a hostage against her, Frisk might have a chance. She could get away. 

  He believed in her.

  There was a final, forceful shove through his soul that Sans hardly even felt. His body bent back with the force of it, as the vine pierced through his soul completely, poking through the other side of his jacket. Everything began to fade and to feel far away and fuzzy...grainy...

  And then it was dark.

 

 


	2. Battered Soul, Awakened Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was requested that I continue this story a bit, and I liked that idea so here we go!  
> Sorry its short, but I'm not super good at writing and this felt like a good place to end the chapter.  
> There will be more chapters. my mind is starting to think of a plot!
> 
> Don't forget! This is based off of Zeragii's comic DeeperDown! Go check it out!

Sans had thought he was dead.

Which was why, when a fire in his chest and wrists slowly dragged him to consciousness, he was more than just a little bit disoriented. His vision and memories were blurred, nothing but a shifting range of dull colors a fearful images, but he was steadily blinking away the confusion, though the horror only grew. Realization slowly dawned on him as he gathered what little information in his mind he had, and with it came with a burning urgency to move.

"u-unnh..." He tried to sit up, to better see his surroundings, but agony flared up throughout his entire body, and he slammed back down into the tile with a pained cry. "nnh! o-oh, g-god..."

Breathe. He just...needed to breathe and wait for the pain to pass. He clenched his eyes shut, water beading beneath his lids as he suffered through the waves of sharp discomfort. It seemed to last forever, before it slowly became more of a dull throb, leaving Sans laying limp on the ground, panting weakly.

He was still in the Judgement Hall, though it was considerably darker now than it had been before. Part of that might have been because it was later...but it was also the lack of magic in the room. There was no flaring red, dangerous and cruel, and there was no cyan...not even a little from Sans's chest. Everything was dark and empty; the Forgotten and Frisk nowhere in sight. He was alone, laid out on the ground between two of the pillars.

"f-fr-isk?"

His voice was weak and hoarse. The child wouldn't have been able to hear him even if she had been nearby.

Frisk was in trouble. The creature, that demon, had taken her. Some bitter part of Sans cried out in accusation, saying that the child had handed him over to death and given up on him. But a different part of Sans, the part that cared about the child and loved her like a sister or a kid of his own, knew that Frisk had had no choice. She had been given the choice of saving him, or saving the world. And, no matter how much it hurt, Sans knew that one life was not worth the lives of thousands. Especially his. The creature wanted Frisk's DETERMINATION. Who knew what it wanted it for, but Sans couldn't imagine that it was anything good. A being that powerful wouldn't have given up. 

It would get that power no matter what.

No matter what it had to do to Frisk to get it.

Sans needed to find her. _NOW_.

The skeleton took a shuddering breath, shifting himself onto his side with a hiss of pain. Then, as carefully as he could, he moved his broken wrists under him and pushed. It was horrible, the feeling of his shattered bone shifting and protesting under his minuscule weight. Thank the stars skeletons don't weigh much, but it was still enough to make him groan out in agony, though he didn't stop. Not until he was standing on numb, shaking legs and breathing hard enough to make his chest burn too.

He glanced down at his chest, at the jagged tear in his white shirt, with a wince. No glow came from beneath it, and the pain throbbed beneath with a passion unlike any he had ever felt. Tenderly, carefully, Sans lifted a hand and tried to summon his soul. The pain of doing so almost brought him to his knees, but he stood fast, and a moment later a sad, battered shape materialized in front of his heaving chest.

Sans almost choked on his breath when he saw it.

His soul had not shattered, but that was the only thing that had fallen in his favor. A gaping wound, that stretched from the front of his soul all the way to the back, sat dead center in the pale, quivering organ. A hole, coated in a fine mist of powdered dust and seeping gray, made Sans's soul look like something out of a nightmare. How it had survived such an injury was a miracle, and explained why his chest and soul hurt like hell. Sans lifted his other hand, shaking, as though to touch his soul, but he was afraid what that might do to him. He was too weak and afriad. He was useless. Defeated.

But he wasn't going to give up.

Not on Frisk.

He stowed his soul back in his chest with a gritted whimper, his head feeling light and distant. Reaching out, he steadied himself against a pillar, trying to goad his usually sharp mind into gear.

He couldn't do this alone.

He had tried, and this was where it had got him. This...being...it was stronger than he would ever be able to fight. He needed help, and he needed it fast. Sans sent a tired glance over his shoulder, out toward the end of the hall where the entrance to Asgore's flower chamber and thrown room was located. Beyond that, Sans knew that the collapsed barrier sat, shrouded and blocked by an avalanche of solid rock. Beyond that...were his friends. His friends and his brother. Good monsters who, together, might be able to stop that demon from getting away with its plans.

If he could just...get there...

Teleporting sounded like a bad idea wrapped inside of a horrible idea. But...for Frisk, he would do anything.

 

Gathering every last ounce of strength he had left, digging deep inside his battered magic and injured soul, Sans initiated his power to bend the space around him. He focused on just outside the barrier, praying that he would make it through...and not die in the process...

 


	3. Helping Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! More, just like you guys wanted.   
> Thank you so much for your comments and for encouraging me to continue with this!  
> And thank you Zeragii for your approval and excitement over this story based on your work! <3
> 
> The beginning of this chapter starts out exactly like my other short "Do You Believe in Miracles", but then it branches off and changes.

Alphys frowned down at the scanner in her shaking hands.

She was still a little out of breath from their mad dash up the mountainside and she was tired, even if Undyne had carried her the last hundred feet or so. Papyrus stood behind her, shaking and holding back sniffles that tore at her soul. To her left, Undyne stood tensely, gazing up at the rock-blocked entrance to what used to be the barrier. It was quiet and cold, the only sound being the chilling wind and the incessant beeping of the machine in her hands. It was reading, trying to penetrate deep within the mountain to inform her of whether the day would end sadly or not. Alphys was no stranger to tragedy, but the thought of what they might find...It frightened her to her very core.

 

_Beeeeeeep!_

 

The three monsters jolted at the final sounding blip, Alphys quickly moving to disengage the alarm and look over the readings.

"Th-That should d-do it," she informed, giving a glance toward Undyne, drawing strength from the other's encouraging nod.

Undyne reached out, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What's it say?"

Taking a deep breath, Alphys looked down and read over the precise information, her bespectacled eyes taking in every line of writing. "I-It says that this w-wall of rock is pretty s-solid...almost f-fifteen feet th-thick...u-um...Mostly s-sand stone, that's why i-it's kind of a r-reddish color...But beyond that...th-there's nothing."

"...Nothing?"

Papyrus's voice sounded so small and strangled, hopeless in a way someone like him never should be. Alphys was quick to explain.

"N-Nothing! A-As in, no d-dust, other th-than normal dust that is, but, you know- And no signs of any b-b-bodies!"

Undyne looked uncertain. "So...you mean that there's no sign that either of them got caught in the cave in then?"

"Y-Yes!"

Papyrus moved closer, his hands still clutching Sans's pink slipper. "A-Are you sure, Doctor Alphys?"

The question threw off some of the scientists enthusiasm, making the smallest sliver of self doubt twinge in the back of her mind, but she tilted the scanner, letting the tall skeleton read it for himself. "I-I mean, I'm p-pretty sure. L-Look-" She pointed to the screen. "These three blips on the s-screen are u-us. This barrier is the m-mountain, and these catacomb like structures are the i-inside of the Underground."

Papyrus frowned. "It...does not seem big enough to be the  _whole_  of the Underground," he murmured worriedly.

Alphys flinched, looking down at the scanner with regret. "W-Well...s-sadly, this scanner isn't strong enough t-to reach very far. I-I can only read about a-as far as the King's Th-Thrown R-Room."

"Which means that, whatever happened to them, they weren't caught in the avalanche," Undyne assured, catching on and moving to gently pat Papyrus on the shoulder. "If they had, Alphys would have picked up on...anything out of place." She sent the scientist a fond, adoring smile; one of both pride and encouragement.

Alphys blushed.

"But..." Papyrus was still trembling, his moist gaze locked on the wall of solid rock before him. "What are we going to do?" he whimpered.

Alphys opened her mouth to reply, but a shrill alarm went off on her scanner, again causing all three monsters to startle violently. She almost dropped the device on the ground in her haste to look at its screen, fumbling for several anxious moments before she got a good grip and stared at it in stunned shock.

"What is it?" Undyne pressed, moving closer and trying to see.

"I-It's a magic signature; it just a-appeared within range of the scanner b-but...b-but then it disappeared!" Alphys gave her scanner a slight shake, just in case it was malfunctioning. The little fading blip on the screen, that indicated something  _had_ been there, if even for a moment, was blurred. Almost as though... Alphys' eyes widened. "O-Oh my g-god!" She looked up from her scanner, eyes frantically searching the ledge around them.

"WHAT?!" Undyne yelped, taking a defensive stance. "WHAT IS IT?!"

Alphys looked ready to burst with a mix of joy and terror. "It's Sans! That magic signature! HE TELEPORTED!"

As though on cue, a buzzing crackle filled the air, just to their right, a cyan glow encasing every inch of the rock face. And then, Sans stumbled into sight, his magic flickering and knees already buckling as his teleport deposited him through the collapsed barrier. He barely made it one step, before he stumbled and fell roughly to the ground, shivering violently.

"Brother!"

"Sans!"

"Hey!"

Papyrus, Alphys, and Undyne rushed forward, all three kneeling down beside the badly beaten monster. Sans was still conscious, though only just barely, and the minute Papyrus's hand brushed against his shoulder, the smaller skeleton reached back and latched on as though desperate. Papyrus cooed an encouragement, leaning down further to gather his brother to his chest. Tears were forming in the tall skeleton's eyes, one already glowing green with healing magic as he sent Alphys an pleading look.

Papyrus's voice was strained and weak, softer than it had ever been. "A-Alphys....what happened to Sans?"

Alphys winced. "I-It looks like...he got c-caught in the avalanche a-after all..." she murmured sadly.

"Man. He's in really bad shape," Undyne whistled softly, reaching out her own hand to check over their friend's visibly shattered wrists with a sympathetic hiss. " _Shit_. That looks like it really _hurts_." She settled further into a kneel, checking Sans over more and not liking what she was seeing. Sans was breathing harshly and unevenly, his shaking hands pulling lightly at Papyrus's sleeve. He kept flinching whenever any of them touched him, either out of pain or fear she couldn't tell; but he was too exhausted and weak to truly shift away. "Aw, dude. Guess you can't always dodge like a pro, huh?"

Sans's hazy eye lights shifted toward her, unfocused and terribly dim. "f-fri-sk," he struggled to get out, his voice little more than a strained breath. "f-fri....sk..."

Alphys felt her soul twist. She leaned forward, running a gently hand over the skeleton's forehead, noticing the dreadful crack in his skull. "F-Frisk?"

"What about Frisk, brother?" Papyrus whispered gently. 

Sans looked as though he wanted to answer, even going so far as to try and sit up a little straighter in Papyrus's arms. His attempt was short lived however, as his eye lights flickered and then promptly rolled up into the back of his skull. He slumped back into Papyrus's hold limply, completely unconscious. Papyrus startled at the sudden change, gripping his brother with a wail of fear.

"SANS!"

"The hell!"

Alphys remained silent, quickly turning to her scanner. She was afraid that Sans might have fallen; his injuries were certainly severe enough, and he only had one HP. The image of him dusting in their arms urged her to hurry, wanting to get a reading in case there was something they could do to stop the inevitable. The scanner beeped and hummed, giving her a readying that was both mortifying and an immense relief.

 

***SANS**

***HP  0.13/1**

***1 ATK**

***1 DEF**

***Not All Injuries Are Physical**

 

Alphys wasn't quite sure what that flavor text meant, but Sans was alive. Badly injured, unconscious, and with stats lower than a new born monster; but he was alive. And they really just needed to try and keep him that way. Papyrus was still trying to heal his brother, his glowing hand hovering from Sans's wrists to Sans's skull to the disturbing looking tear in the little skeleton's shirt. It wasn't doing much; Papyrus wasn't much of a healer. If Sans was going to survive, he was going to need some proper care.

"L-Lets get him to the k-king and queen," she stuttered, her hand never leaving Sans's limp form. "They've g-got a far h-higher healing rate th-than any of us. They c-can help him."

"Sure thing, Alphys," Undyne nodded in agreement. She turned to Papyrus, her expression one of concern. "You want me to carry him, Papyrus?"

"N-No..." Papyrus slowly stood to his feet, Sans dangling like a broken doll from his long, bony arms. He gently tucked his brother closer to his chest, mindful to be as gentle as possible. "I...I-I can carry him. I _want_ to carry him. Thank you though, Undyne...I appreciate it."

Undyne seemed to understand. "It's okay, buddy. I understand. Let's get him back to camp."

Carefully, but as quickly as they could, the three monsters made their way back down the mountain. Alphys cast a nervous glance back toward the collapsed barrier. Frisk was in there somewhere, and they could only hope she was alive and safe. Sans had teleported out, without her...that couldn't be a good sign. Sans would never have done that unless the situation were dire. Something bad must have happened; something really bad. But they wouldn't be able to tell until Sans was strong enough to tell them.

Hopefully, with a bit of help...that wouldn't be too long?

 


	4. Irreparable Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again another chapter!  
> I think I'm getting addicted to writing this kind of stuff...

The news had spread quickly, despite everyone's efforts to keep what was happening hush-hush. Someone must have spotted them coming back into camp, a tearful Papyrus carrying a limp and obviously badly beaten Sans; so people were bound to talk. Word had gotten to Grillby, somewhere in camp, and he had immediately gathered some supplies and waltzed into Asgore's massive tent without so much as a 'may I come in'. Asgore had't minded, certainly not enough to scold. The worry in the fire man's expression was more than enough to warrant his rushed lack of courtesy.

Sans had been brought to the king's tent immediately after Undyne, Papyrus, and Alphys had arrived with him in tow. Toriel had been informed, her concern only surpassed by her horror that Sans had returned without Frisk with him. She proceeded to direct Papyrus to lay Sans down on Asgore's makeshift bed of pillows and blankets, easing the skeleton's jacket and shirt off with quiet words of encouragement...even though Sans more than likely could not hear her.

There were gasps and whimpers of sympathy all around as the dreadful state of Sans's person was truly revealed. His skull was definitely cracked, no pieces missing, thank the stars, but the thin little fractures were long and painful looking. His wrists were shattered, the little bones grinding together in what had to be an agonizing manner if Sans were awake to feel it. They would have to be bandaged, to make sure that none of the little bone fragments would fall off and get lost. His bones were battered and bruised, something that Toriel had not known could happen to a creature without skin or muscle. But by far, of all the injuries Sans sported, the wound in his chest was the worst. His ribs were cracked, just under his sternum and to the upper right. One was broken completely, hanging on only by a frail line of magic that kept it dangling pitifully. There was bruising there too, of a dreadful, forceful kind. Like something had violently shoved through. A identical tear in the back of his shirt and hoodie made that image more realized.

"We should...check his soul," Toriel murmured softly, tears in her eyes. Her mind was torn between fear for her friend and fear for her missing child. Sans's stats, as Alphys had informed her, were extremely low, and a bit odd. Checking the organ in person would be a good idea, since there was always margin for error when using any type of soul scanner.

Gritting her teeth in concentration, Toriel gently called out Sans's soul...

Sans released a shuddering gasp, even in unconsciousness, his body attempting to draw up a wall of magic but finding itself worn too thin. He was trying to protect himself...and his soul refused to appear.

Silence fell over the occupants of the tent as Toriel, Asgore, Alphys, Undyne, Papyrus, and Grillby stared in stunned shock.

"He...H-He rejected me," Toriel whispered, concern dripping from her words. "I have...never seen a soul do that before..."

"I have."

They all turned to Grillby, noticing the fire monster's grave expression. 

"It is...not uncommon for those whose souls have been injured directly for such...symptoms of fear and distrust to arise."

Papyrus paled, even more so than his already white bones. "D-Direct injury to...to his _soul?_ "

Grillby nodded somberly.

"M-Maybe if P-Papyrus tries?" Alphys spoke up uncertainly. "Th-There's n-no one Sans trusts m-more than him."

"Yeah," Undyne spoke up from the tent's opening. She was standing guard, making sure that no other visitors wanting to 'check in' on Sans's condition would further crowd the already crammed tent. "Give it a try, Papyrus...We have to make sure he's okay, and you're our best shot."

Papyrus was hunched in on himself, wringing his hands mercilessly. He nodded bluntly, slowly making his way to settle down beside Toriel, hovering over his brother's still form. Toriel gave him an encouraging smile, lightly laying a paw on his shoulder. Papyrus sent her a shaky smile of his own, before refocusing on Sans. He hovered his hands over the smaller's damaged chest, closing his eyes in concentration, and then, as gently as possible, called out to the invisible soul of the other.

Sans tensed, but no magic was called upon to protect. His brow furrowed, and then, reluctantly, a dim, unevenly pulsing glow appeared beneath his ribs. Papyrus nearly fainted in relief. After a few more moments of coaxing, the small soul rose up to rest, floating, just above Sans's sternum.

"What...the... _hell?!_ "

Undyne's expression of horror was echoed by every other monster present.

Sans's soul was...There were no true words that could describe the irreparable damage. The little organ was dimmer than any soul they had ever seen, scars and little hairline fractures danced across its pale surface. But those looked older, less severe. What was so horrifying, so utterly devastating, was the jagged, gaping hole that was torn right through the center of Sans's core. Its edges were dusted with a powdery gray, so fragile and weak it was only by pure devine intervention that it hadn't shattered completely. Tiny traces of something vibrant -- was that red? Blood? -- bled from the sharper, more violent breaks, oozing down to drip onto Sans's chest, before it would fade away like invisible ink.

This was an injury no one could heal; not Toriel, Asgore, or even the greatest of history's healers.

Sans's soul was irreparably torn.

The silence was broken by Papyrus's sudden sob, the taller skeleton's hands held out under the fragile soul, too afraid to touch it, but to terrified of leaving it out without protection. The sorrow and grief in Papyrus's soft cry was enough to set the crowded tent into organized chaos.

Undyne moved to carefully pull Papyrus away, not wanting the innocent skeleton to have to look down on his brother's mangled being any longer than necessary. Alphys joined her, and together they both managed to guide the weeping monster outside the tent, where they would wait with him and try to console him. Toriel and Asgore had moved forward at once, both taking a place on either side of Sans, and begun pumping as much healing magic into the skeleton as possible. The small soul was too fragile to touch directly; they could only hope that by healing the fractured bones they could make some headway with Sans's overall health.

"Go get Gerson," Asgore instructed over his shoulder to Grillby.

The fire monster nodded without a word, dropping the supplies he had brought on the wayside and taking off at a run.

Toriel's eyes drifted forlornly to Sans's soul and had to fight the urge to gag. "Wh-Who could have done this...?" She felt her tears run cold and wet down her cheeks, blurring her vision.

"I do not know," Asgore replied, easing just a little more strength into his healing. "But we will find out. And we will not let anything happen to him again; nor anyone else."

Toriel nodded, watching as Sans's bones slowly began to heal. His breathing was still labored and shaky, and his soul, which was still spinning weakly, was still giving off pitiful pulses. "F-Frisk is still out there somewhere," she sniffed, closing her eyes.

"Once Sans is stable and awake, he may be able to tell us where she is."

Again Toriel nodded. She focused her everything on healing the monster below her hands, dredging up every ounce of love and caring she could. She did not even care that she was so close to her ex-husband. She only knew that her friend was hurting, and that Asgore was putting just as much effort into helping him as she was.

For the first time in countless years...they were working together for something good.

She only hoped it would be enough. 


	5. Willing to Consent to Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing a lot of this the last few days, that's why I'm posting so much.

Gerson had never been one to hurry. Since the days of the War he had taken his time with life, allowing the peace and calm to sooth what remained of the hurt of loss and pain. Wars...were terrible things. They did horrible things to good monsters; to good people. Humans hadn't been _all_ bad; there had been some he had even called friends, in the days before the battles had began. Before the days of blood and dust...

But those days were long gone.

While their relationship with humans was, at best, still shaky, Gerson believed that things were in good hands. Asgore had made many mistakes, but he had learned from them. Things would all work out eventually. All he had to do, at his age, was sit back, relax, and watch it all move forward. 

The elderly turtle monster heaved a pleasant sigh, settling his back further against a warm tree. He closed his eyes, expression peaceful, before they snapped open again once more as a frantic voice called his name.

"Gerson!"

It was that fine fire fellow, the one who had owned the bar in Snowdin; Grillby, was it? He was running from the village of tents and out into the field where Gerson sat under a lone tree. He was moving quickly, his movements more frantic that usual, and his flames held an agitated tint. Grunting, Gerson pushed himself up into a stand, waiting patiently until the younger monster was standing in front of him, crackling with anxious energy.

"Hello there, young feller," he began, cheerfully. "What can I do fer y-"

"The king requests your presence in his tent," Grillby choked out, a little out of breath apparently. "Have you not heard the news?"

Gerson's brow furrowed and he stood up a little straighter. Without a word he started back at a surprisingly fast walk toward the tents, Grillby startling and then following after him. "What happened?"

"The search party that went out looking for Frisk and Sans returned. They found Sans, but he is in very poor shape," Grillby supplied. He paused, either out of hesitence or uncertainty. "He...Gerson, his soul is badly damaged."

The old turtle stopped, looking to Grillby for confirmation before quickening his pace. As he moved he instructed the younger monster. "Go to my tent and bring my brown leather satchel. I may have something there that can help."

Grillby nodded and ran off in the opposite direction for Gerson's tent, while Gerson made a beeline for the king's. He arrived to a distressing scene: Undyne and Alphys sitting out on the grass with a shaking, sobbing skeleton between them; Papyrus, Gerson recalled, was the brother of Sans. He didn't stop to trade words with the small, pitiful group, only catching Undyne's somewhat desperate glance as he passed. Poor kid. She had never been one for dealing with emotional people. She was friends with the young skeleton boy though; her instincts would guide her. There were more pressing things for Gerson to deal with.

Entering the tent was like walking into a funeral ward; it was deathly silent other than the weak gasps of an injured monster and Toriel's soft words meant to sooth them. The interior of the tent was aglow with green magic, a result of two of the Underground's most powerful healers working in tandem. There was much energy there; much frantic, caring hope; but the thing that caught the old turtle's attention immediately was the small soul hovering in plain view.

It was mutilated. Damaged beyond anything Gerson had seen in a long time, and memories of friends on deaths door flooded back to him, but he brushed them away. Not now. He had to focus. He had to save this monster's fate.

"Gerson."

Asgore's deep voice, low and gentle, broke Gerson from his spiraling thoughts. He shifted his gaze from the damaged soul to the furrowed face of his king. Purpose filled the old monster and he stepped forward, ready to do whatever was necessary. 

"Your majesties?" he replied softly.

"Oh, Gerson," Toriel half sobbed. Her emotional state was only slightly better than the skeleton outside. "Is there anything you can do for him?"

Asgore was still flooding the downed monster with healing magic. "We have healed all the physical injuries we were able to, but his HP is still distressingly low." Though he didn't have to say why that was the case. There was no way that any monster could reach their full HP with they soul so horribly compromised. "We...We were afraid to try and heal his soul...It has been long since the War, and I was not skilled in healing then..." He trailed off, somewhat helplessly.

Gerson immersed his own soul in calm, letting it resonate in his voice. Everyone was far too tense; too upset. It would do no one any good, least of all Sans, it they were all at their wits end. "I may be able to assist. I sent the young fire fellow to my tent for a few things. He should be back before we know it. Now..." He sidled up beside Asgore, laying a gentle hand on the king's still hovering hands. "You can stop your healing. All that could be done, has been done. He will be unable to receive anything more that way for now." He shifted his hands to Toriel's own as she hesitated. "Please. I may be old, but I know when a healing of a different kind is needed."

Reluctantly, both boss monsters stopped their magic, carefully shifting back from Sans's limp form to allow the old turtle to move closer. Gerson knelt down, settling himself very close to the skeleton's skull, until his knee was almost pressed to Sans's shoulder. He inspected the far younger monster with an experienced eye, not looking at the soul just yet, but at the small fellow it belonged to. Asgore and Toriel had done well to heal the outward injuries, leaving nothing but pale squiggles where new bone had formed to patch the cracks. Sans's wrists had been healed as well, if the tight bandaging was any indication. Satisfied that all that could be done had been well and truly accomplished, Gerson rolled up his sleeves, his expression grim.

"I have not seen a soul so badly torn since the War," he stated critically. He raised a hand up to the weak soul, not touching it, but trying to feel the weak pulse that came from it. He stared into the gaping wound, in a manner no one else had been able to without feeling sick. "This injury was made by something blunt. Or partially so. Something not typically used as a weapon. It looks to have been thrust through his soul with...great force."

Toriel muffled a sob, and actually allowed Asgore to reach out and comfort her. The king shook his head.

"What can be done?"

"Little," Gerson replied, removing his hand. "But what I can; I will."

Grillby rushed into the tent then, a more subdued Papyrus following in his wake, along with Undyne and Alphys. The two female monsters did not come in all the way, standing just within the tent flaps, but Papyrus walked in further, his eyes locked on his injured brother. Grillby moved to hand Gerson his brown leather satchel.

"Thank you," Gerson praised quietly, taking the bag. He nodded toward the door. "Now, I must ask you to leave. It is much too crowded here as it is. Please go and try and allay the fears of anyone who this concerns."

Grillby nodded, then left.

"C-Can I stay?" Papyrus asked weakly.

Gerson gave the tall skeleton a gentle smile. "Yes. You may be just what he needs. You two are very close, am I right?"

Papyrus nodded, holding back another sob.

"That's good," Gerson assured. "That will help. As for the rest of you-"

"We're not going anywhere," Undyne growled defiantly. She had an arm wrapped around Alphys shoulders, and Alphys looked almost as determined as she did. "Sans and I might not be all buddy buddy, but he's...he's a good little punk. He was always a good sentry -- even if he was always falling asleep. I wanna make sure he pulls through this, and I ain't going to stand outside and wait where I can't see."

"We are all very worried," Toriel informed Gerson, a bit more shyly. "He has...become close to all our hearts."

Gerson sighed. "Very well. But take warning; this will neither be pleasant nor painless, for any of us. Least of all him." He cast his eyes down to the injured skelly then back up. "Understood?"

They all nodded.

"Good. Then let us begin." Taking his satchel and opening it, Gerson withdrew a small blue-glass bottle. He shook the bottle vigorously, explaining as he worked. "Injuries to souls is the most devastating kind of injury a monster can endure. Many would have dusted with such a wound as this, but it seems that whomever attacked him was not quite intent on killing him. Only in hurting him. This is more a case of abuse than attempted murder."

Papyrus whimpered and Toriel carefully drew him to her side.

"Because of this," Gerson continued, "his soul will shy away from any form of healing, for fear of being hurt again. This bottle is quite old; a mixture commonly used during the War as a soothing balm for such injuries as this, where humans had violated a monster's soul as a means of...making a point. It will not heal the wound, only time can do that, and even then only so far; but this balm may take away some of the pain and get him back on his feet." Gerson finished shaking the bottle and set it on the ground beside his knee and Sans's shoulder. "However, even the balm will be useless unless the patient is aware and willing."

Undyne frowned uneasily. "Which means...?"

Gerson placed one clammy palm on Sans's forehead, and the other up toward his soul. "It means, young one...that he must be awake." And with that Gerson released a powerful pulse of magic, one into Sans's skull and one into his vulnerable soul. Instantly Sans's eyes snapped open, his back arching as he drew in a haggard gasp. No one present knew how Gerson had done it, but Sans was know fully conscious...and obviously in terrible pain and fear.

"Easy, lad...easy," Gerson soothed, gently pushing Sans back into the pillows and blankets. Sans was gasping for breath, his hands weakly scrabbling at the sheets beneath him, one even trying to reach up and dig at his chest. Gerson didn't let him, wrapping a hand carefully around one semi-healed wrist and holding it down. Gerson motioned for Papyrus to come closer, and the tall skeleton scrambled into a kneel on the side of Sans opposite the old turtle. "Try to calm him," Gerson instructed. "It is important that he feels safe."

Papyrus nodded numbly, leaning forward until his forehead was almost pressed against Sans's, a familial gesture filled with love and worry. He reached out with a shaking hand and stroked Sans's skull, murmuring softly. "It is okay, brother...You are safe here, with me and Undyne, and Alphys; with the king and queen. And G-Gerson. You remember him, right, Sans? He's here t-to help you, brother. But we need you to calm down a little. Alright? You are safe." Papyrs choked on a sob. "I-I won't let anything else hurt you."

Sans's gaze was hazed and unfocused, but he apparently recognized Papyrus's voice, weakly reaching out, and Gerson let him, Sans latching on to the front of Papyrus's orange shirt. His soul, which had started quivering in distress, calmed, as did Sans's harsh gasps for air. His spine lowered back to the makeshift bed, his trembling visible but his demeanor far less panicked.

"p-pap-"

"Yes, Sans. Yes, brother, I am right here."

"As am I," Gerson assured. It was important that Sans recognize his presence. "You are no longer in danger, young monster. We will keep you safe."

"f-fri-sk," Sans choked out, his gaze shifting away from Papyrus's direction and ping-ponging back and forth, as though he were looking for the child. "f-fr-i-"

Toriel had stepped forward at her daughter's name, but Gerson sent her a look to silence any questions she might have. Sans was too weak to be questioned. They needed him calmer, not more upset. As pressing as the issue of finding the missing human was, Sans's life depended on the here and now.

"Yes, yes, we understand. But right now you need to breathe," Gerson soothed gently, reaching up and sending yet another pulse into the small skeleton's skull, though this one was much more gentle. It seemed to ground Sans a bit, as his eyes focused and he actually looked up into Gerson's friendly face. "There we go. Nice and easy. Just relax. We're here to help, not hurt you."

"h-hel-lp..."

It sounded more like a plea than a confirmation. Sans was probably delirious with the pain. 

"Yes," Gerson answered anyway. "Help. I'm going to help you. But I'm going to need your help in order to do so."

Sans shivered, his hold on Papyrus's shirt tightened.

Gerson could only hope that Sans was understanding what he was saying, or this would be far more difficult. "I need to try and heal your soul, but-"

The small skeleton weakly tried to writhe closer to his brother with a soft whimper. "n-no," he gasped. "d-do-don't-"

Undyne grit her teeth and Alphys shrunk further against her side in sympathy. To hear someone as usually calm and laid back as Sans begging not to be hurt...It was enough to make every monster in the room sick with dread. What had happened? What had happened to reduce the Sans they knew to...this.

Papyrus continued to stroke Sans's skull, cooing reassurances. "I-It is alright. Shhh. It is alright, Sans. I'm here." He sent a pleading look to Gerson. "Do we have to do this? Is this necessary?" he implored desperately.

"I am afraid there is no other way," Gerson replied. "His soul needs treatment. Without at least some healing, it may fester and become infected. If I were to try to heal it regardless of his willingness, the soul might reject the healing, or worse, damage it further."

Papyrus winced, before his face hardened with purpose. "Tell me what to do."

"What? Lad, I-"

"Tell me what to do," Papyrus repeated. "No offense to you, Mr. Gerson, but Sans will be much more likely to trust me than you. I am his brother. I would never hurt him, and he knows that."

Gerson stared a moment, gauging the tall, thin monster before him, before he nodded. He took the little blue bottle from the ground and handed it to Papyrus, instructing him. "You will need to make him aware of what you are going to do. The contents of that bottle must be gently applied to his soul, in addition to some healing magic. He must be completely willing in order for it to work."

"I understand."

Papyrus pushed the knowledge that he and Sans were surrounded by worried gazes, focusing only on him and his close relation to his brother. They were the only ones there. The only things in the universe that mattered. Papyrus scooted just a little bit closer, cupping Sans's cheek. Sans jolted at the touch, his soul giving a frightened shiver. Papyrus swallowed down the lump of sorrow that formed in his throat.

"It is okay, Sans. Just focus on me. I'm here. I'm here and I love you, brother."

"p-papy-yrus..."

"Yes. You're safe. I need to heal your soul, Sans."

"h-hur-ts-" the other wined, squirming a little.

"I know it does, and I want to help." Papyrus gritted his teeth. "Sans, may I touch your soul?"

Sans's expression blanked, and for a moment Papyrus wasn't sure he had heard.

"...Sans?"

"p-please..."

"Please?"

"h-help...?"

"I can heal your soul? I'll have to touch it, Sans; is that alright?"

Another pause, long and dreadful, but then Sans gave the smallest of nods. Papyrus nearly collapsed in relief.

"Okay. O-Okay, brother. Here we go, alright. Just...just relax. Breathe."

Taking the cork out of the little blue glass bottle, Papyrus carefully emptied the contents into his hand. It was also blue, and thicker than he had expected. It had the consistency of jelly, but a bit more fluid. Her looked to Gerson, hoping that he had done the right thing.

Gerson nodded encouragingly. "You will need to rub it into the wound. It will...not be pleasant."

Papyrus frowned, worried that Sans would take the pain as him hurting him, but he knew he had no choice. Sans was staring up at him with dim eye lights, trusting and desperate from any form of relief from the pain. He wasn't all there, Papyrus realized, but he was there enough to know that any pain Papyrus caused him would not be intentional. With that small reassurance, Papyrus reached out with both hands for Sans's soul.


	6. Have to Hurt Before We Can Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six chapters! I am so proud of myself. I've never written anything so long in my life!

Souls were sensitive things. They were the very essence of a monster, the very core that made up their life, their personality; who they were. They were incredibly susceptible to the emotions of others, as well as the physical things of the world. Which was why, as Papyrus carefully reached out and brushed his fingers against his brother's soul, he was not the least bit surprised when Sans gave a violent jolt, a nasty, uncomfortable choke escaping the downed skeleton despite the multiple warnings he had been given.

Sans tensed, spine doing this weird thing were it was trying to twist away, even though in reality Papyrus was nowhere near it. All those present in the room winced; Alphys, Toriel, and Asgore turning their eyes away, squeamish. Papyrus _wanted_ to turn away - oh _stars_ , did he ever want to - but his brother needed him. This was no time to be overly sensitive. Undyne had only just made him a Royal Guardsman, and no true soldier would back down from something as...a-as disturbing as a mangled soul and a little bit of dust.

Papyrus welcomed the self-fed lie.

 

The soul pulsed weakly as Papyrus's fingers edged along its surface, so fragile it was as though it might shatter at any moment. It felt odd under his hands; dry almost, like it had been painted and then left to air out, becoming tacky. The jagged, torn edges of the gaping hole were even worse, prickly and crumbly. Papyrus held back a gag and gently tried to distract Sans with some soothing words.

"It's alright, Sans...See? You are doing very well. You are very brave." Sans was too out of it to know bravery from cowardice, but Papyrus hoped his words meant something. "I know it does not feel good, but it will all be alright. Just hang in there, Sans. That's it..."

He began carefully working the gell into Sans's soul, sliding it over the surface and watching as the soul, weakly, tried to drink it in. It was almost as though it knew how badly it needed to heal, and was willing to do anything to get there. Sans's soul was open and trusting. Of course, that largely had to do with Sans, at least subconsciously, knowing that it was Papyrus handling him so softly. As the soul absorbed more of the substance, Sans's shuddering stiffness slowly lowered down to a twitching limpness. He lay there, eyes dim and hazy, unable to even focus on Papyrus's face at all now. Working the gel into the wound was trickier, and Sans certainly stiffened back up again, but he didn't cry out, which Papyrus had secretly been afraid he might. There was no dreadful choking sound, grunts, or whimpers; Sans seemed to be making a conscious effort not to make any noise. Papyrus had never been more grateful. 

"That's right, young feller," Gerson encouraged, though it was hard to tell who he was speaking to, Sans or Papyrus. "Easy and with no mal-intent."

Papyrus would never even dream of having anything but good intent toward his brother.

Gerson looked over his shoulder, his old eyes landing on Alphys before moving downward to stare at the scanner hanging limply in her hand. "Mind taking a reading, young lady?" he asked kindly, mindful of Alphys slightly paler complexion. He couldn't blame her; Sans's wounds were bad enough to hit anyone rather hard. Even Undyne was looking a little green about the gills. "I want to make sure his HP doesn't drop back down. It shouldn't, but...well, you can never be too careful."

"O-Oh! Right!" Alphys fumbled for a moment. She held up the scanner, inching just a little bit closer, as close as she could stomach, and watched as information flooded the screen. Because she was so far away, she picked up on Papyrus and Gerson's readings as well as Sans's, but she made sure to only focus on the information provided for the smallest skeleton. "H-His HP's still holding s-steady. No changes."

"He's going to need rest," Gerson spoke up. He gave Toriel and Undyne a specific glance. "There will be no interrogating him until he at least gets one night's sleep and looks a little bit less like solidified dust."

Everyone winced at his wording, but nodded in silent agreement.

"Will he...be able to eat?" Toriel spoke up, concern in her voice. "After he is healed?"

Gerson nodded with a hum, his eyes not leaving Papyrus's hands. "He might. It would help with the healing process. His HP might be up to it's full capacity, but that doesn't mean he'll be feeling like his old self. That will take time, nourishment, and rest."

Toriel exchanged a glance with Asgore before starting to back away toward the tent's flaps. "I will go get something," she informed.

"Something easy," Gerson called after her as she left. "Nothing that would take too much energy to absorb into his magic."

Papyrus was completely focused on his work, having long since tuned out the others. The sight of Sans's defiled soul would forever be burned into his memory at this point, but it was looking the slightest bit better. It was brighter, still dim but there was a noticeable improvement. The dust that had been crumbling at the edges of the wound were now completely solid, the soul no longer dry but a healthy sheeny dampness. He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't notice the way that Sans's eyes had slowly come into focus, his breathing evening out to a even rhythm, with only small hitches from time to time. It wasn't until a small, shaking hand with cold, trembling philanges wrapped weakly around one of his wrists, that Papyrus realized Sans was now completely conscious. He startled at the touch, his hands swiftly moving away from the soul rather than squeezing it in surprise. 

"S-Sans?"

Sans gave him the most wonderful lopsided grin Papyrus thought he had ever seen. "h-hey, br-bro."

Tears formed where they had dried earlier in Papyrus's concentration, trailing down the tall skeleton's face. He lurched forward to wrap Sans in a hug, but stopped himself in time, resorting to gently wrapping his hands around Sans's bony shoulders. "Oh, thank stars you're alright..." he whispered, too filled with relief to allow the original grief at his brother's state to taint it.

"The stars had nothing to do with it," Gerson's voice interrupted with a chuckle. Despite the old turtle's voice not being particularly, Sans once again jolted, his gave tilting over to look at the old fellow in confusion and surprise.

"g'rson?" Sans slurred. He looked exhausted.

The old turtle smiled encouraging, moving to kneel a bit closer to the skeleton's side. Sans blinked up at him, as though the closeness between them was a bit to much for his previously blurry vision to handle. But then, in a moment that was clearly visible to Gerson from his close proximity, Sans noticed something was off. His sockets widened, and his gaze was drawn to the pitiful soul, mangled and deformed, hovering weakly over his chest. Sans froze, a look unlike any he had ever worn slowly bleeding into his expression. Of perhaps, more accurately, all expression bled away completely. He simply lay there, half propped up by pillows and sheets, staring at his soul with a numb, hollow look.

Gerson felt his own soul sink. Not waiting to see what sort of reaction Sans would exhibit after the momentary shock wore off, Gerson turned to look over his shoulder at the other gathered monsters in the tent. "He should be fine now. Or, as fine as can be expected. A little privacy might be in order, don't you think?"

Asgore and Alphys immediately nodded, frowning a bit worried concern. Undyne raise a brow, confused, before her eye settled on Sans and Papyrus's devestated expressions, and then she understood and followed the king and scientist outside. 

"Do you want me to...?" Papyrus trailed off. His gaze was nothing short of a plea.

"No. You stay here," Gerson directed, his eyes returning to the still catatonic Sans. "Your brother will need you." Bracing himself, the old turtle leaned forward and placed his hand between Sans's face and the distressing view of the soul. For a moment Sans stared, as though through it, before he blinked and seemed to come back to himself a bit. His bones started to rattle softly, the result of the tremors now wrecking his small form. "Now, now, none of that. I know there's nothing good in what has happened, but you have to understand it could have been much, much worse. Sans, can you hear me?"

Sans didn't respond, his trembling the only answer he seemed capable of giving. Gerson sighed and looked to Papyrus. Taking a careful, steadying breath, Papyrus once again moved to sooth a hand over Sans's skull, mindful not to bump away Gerson's view-blocking hand. 

"Brother? Sans? Can you hear me? I'm right here. Please, Sans, answer us?"

There was a long pause, in which Sans shivered and breathed in a way that was both painful and strained. And then, like a blessed prayer, Sans whispered out an answer. It was so weak, so frail sounding that Papyrus almost scooped him up again regardless of his brother's condition.

"m'here..."

"Good. Good," Gerson jumped in quickly. "That is very good. Now, Sans...Your soul is...It needs to go back into your chest, my boy. I don't want to force it, and we know you don't want that either. So, I need you to breathe....that's it. And relax. Yes. Mm. Try not to think about anything other than your brother. About how he keeps you safe. How you keep him safe."

It was working, to a degree. Sans was still shaking badly, but the rattling had died down a bit. His breathing was still far too fast, but he wasn't gasping or choking. Sans's weak grip on Papyrus's wrist, the hold the taller skeleton had almost forgotten about, tightened ever so slightly.

"You can do it, brother," Papyrus praised.

Together, Papyrus and the old turtle managed to get Sans to relax enough that the soul was able to be coaxed back into the safety of Sans's ribs and then disappeared. Sans had instantly choked out something that sounded uncannily like a sob, and that had been it for Papyrus. With the soul safely tucked away, he reached out and pulled Sans to his chest, muttering apologies after apologies; sorrys, promises of protected, and various iterations of 'I love you's spilled forth from the deeply stricken younger brother. Sans joined right in, clinging to Papyrus's orange shirt and burying his face into his brother's chest. He wasn't making any sounds, but the shaking and slight bobbing of his shoulders suggested that he too was crying.

Gerson nodded sadly to himself, carefully bracing his hands against his knees and rising to his feet. He didn't say anything, not wanting to interupt the brothers' moment. He made his way out of the tent without a word to them, only stopping to face the small group of anxious friends outside. Toriel was among them, a bowl of what appeared to be broth held firmly in her hands.

"You can go, but..." Gerson paused. He glanced back at the tent entrance. "Give them a moment."

Toriel nodded.

"If his condition changes, or any complications arise, please inform me. I may be able to help."

"Yes, Gerson. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," the old turtle murmured with a shake of his head. "That monster is far from alright. It is going to take a fair amount of love, compassion, and hope to get him even a fraction of where he was before. But..." He smiled, taking in the worried faces; Asgore, Toriel, Alphys, and Undyne. "But I think the lad is in good hands in that regard." He gave Undyne a playful glare. "Play nice."

Undyne gave him a weak grin.

With that, Gerson left, leaving those outside the tent standing in awkward silence.


	7. Distressing News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been writing much. Caught a cold and was too tired to do anything other than sleep. Better now. Time to write again yay!

Asgore, Toriel, Alphys, and Undyne entered the tent with all the caution they could muster. There was no gaiety in their steps, nor smiles on their faces; expressions somber and worried.  Toriel led the way, the bowl of warm broth heavy in her hands. The sight they were greeted with, as the tent flaps flopped closed behind them, was a sad one indeed.

Papyrus was still kneeling on the ground, right where he had been when they left, his arms wrapped around the small form of his brother. Sans was pulled firmly to his chest, Papyrus's hand gently soothing over his back. Both had been crying it seemed, visible by the tear tracks on Papyrus's face and the way that Sans was sniffling softly. Both looked spent, Sans limp and Papyrus looking ready to collapse from exhaustion.

"...Papyrus?" Toriel spoke softly, edging closer. The thin skeleton looked up, blinking tiredly. "Is it...alright if we come closer?"

Papyrus glanced down at his brother before giving a small nod. "Quietly," was all he said.

The group slowly made their way further inside, even Undyne being mindful not to make so much as a sound. Toriel moved forward, crouching down at Papyrus's side. The skeleton gave her a small smile that was only a shadow of its usual positivity, Papyrus carefully easing Sans away from his front.

"Sans? Brother, look...Our friends are here to...to make sure you are alright."

Sans looked distant, dark shadows beneath his sockets and eye lights barely visible. It too a moment, and a bit of coaxing, before his gaze shakily focused on Toriel's compassionate face.

"...h-hey, t..." he whispered, voice hoarse and shaky. 

Toriel smiled, eyes moist. "Hello, my friend. It is good to see you awake." She looked down at the bowl in her hands, then back to his weary face. "I made you something to eat. It is only broth, but...Gerson said I should try and yet something into your system."

Had Sans had skin, he might have turned green. "n-not...really all th-that hungry..."

Undyne squatted down on Papyrus's other side, her hand shifting to rest ever so lightly on Sans's shoulder. He flinched at the touch but didn't move away. "Come on, punk. Just try a little. You've lost...a lot of magic there, buddy."

"Please, brother," Papyrus begged, rubbing a thumb along a mysterious bruise on the side of Sans's skull, an injury magic had only soothed not healed. "You need to regain your strength."

Sans had never been one to be able to resist his brother's wishes. Even though the very thought of eating made him feel sick, Sans finally gave in with a weak nod. Papyrus propped him up, Undyne's steadying hand helping shift him until he was somewhat comfortable. Sans tried to feed himself, but his hands were shaking so badly that he ended up spilling the first few spoonfuls. Toriel had instantly taken initiative, taking the spoon from him and then proceeding to help feed him. Alphys ran a few scans, keeping her readings to herself. They were distressingly low, nothing like a healthy monster should look like. Then again, Sans had never been a 'healthy' monster, what with only having that measly one HP...but now it was like one good wind would dust him.

The whole ordeal was rather embarrassing for Sans. He knew he was being a burden, not even being able to feed himself, but the others all seemed perfectly willing to do it for him. Toriel's gentle coaxing helped him keep down the broth, and Papyrus's soothing hands eased his trembling. Undyne looming over him was more comforting than he would have ever imagined it being. She was like a guard standing watch; protective. Alphys and Asgore were also nice to have nearby, kind and careful presences that eased some of the ache in his soul.

It was a while before Sans finally refused to eat another bite. Even then, he had not eaten very much. He curled back into Papyrus's embrace, breathing slow and a hand laid over his chest, guardedly over his damaged soul. The others had all taken seats on the floor around him, talking in whispers with each other as he let his sockets rest at half mast. He was only half conscious by that point, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. Even then, he was aware of their muffled conversation.

"...H-He is st-still very weak."

"Poor little punk. When I find the asshole who hurt him, I'll-"

"Undyne. Language."

"...Sorry."

"So what are we going to do?" Toriel's calm voice rose above the others, only just barely. "We still do not know what happened...or where Frisk is."

At the mention of Frisk's name, Sans sat bolt upright, startling all within the tent. His trembling returned full force, his small hands scrabbling against the front of Papyrus's shirt.

"Sans? Sans! Brother, what is wrong?!"

"f-fri...frisk! fri-isk!" Sans shuddered, his face filled with urgent panic.

Undyne stepped forward to help Papyrus gently restrain the other as Sans only became more and more distressed.  "Hey, easy! Whoa. Come on. Just-!" She barely dodged being kicked in the chest. She grabbed Sans's ankles, while Papyrus grabbed his brother's wrists. Sans instantly stilled, so suddenly that it was creepy. His sockets become completely dark, spine rigid. There was a beat, then two, before a string of desperate whimpered words gritted out between the small skeleton's teeth.

"n-no...n-no! p-please! n-not again, sto-stop! please d-don't-"

Asgore stepped forward, brow furrowed. He nudged Undyne's hands away from San's feet, then Papyrus's hands from Sans's wrists. "I...am not sure, but I believe we have...triggered him somehow." Asgore bent, gently pulling the trembling, sobbing monster into his arms. Sans was dwarfed, like a child in the king's arms. "I have seen it. In monsters who have been through war."

Undyne looked guilty, also recognizing the signs. "Shit."

"Breathe, friend," Asgore urged, soothing a glowing hand over the small skeleton's skull. Sans gasped, but the resulting pulse of magic seemed to clear his head a little. He latched onto the plating of Asgore's armor, almost desperately. 

"f-frisk-!"

"Yes, Sans," Toriel cooed gently, standing closer so she could add her own comfort. "What about Frisk, my friend? Is she hurt?"

"t-taken..." Sans gasped, his panic still rising only to be pressed back down by boss monster magic. "i-it took h-er..."

Toriel paled. "What took her?"

"nhh-"

"Sans, please!"

The skeleton met her gaze, that frantic urgency still perfectly visible. "th-the s-same thing that c-cracked my s-soul-!"


	8. Terrible Tales Are Told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long guys. Still alive.
> 
> I was so excited by some of Zeragii's newest deerperdown pages! Like how Sans's soul is cracked and bleeding a little, just like imagined it! Poor guy, I want to hug him! I also really like the new Judge and Jury comic. I personally like colored pages, but I quickly realized that color wasn't needed to capture the drama and feels that Zeragii always seems to manage. Good job, Z! Keep it up!

It took a while to calm Sans down enough for anything he said to make sense, and even then the telling was slow and agonizing. He told of how he and Frisk had gotten separated from the group on the mountain, how they had found their way back to where the barrier had once stood. He refused to say why they had lingered, only that Frisk had had something important to show him. He described the arrival of Flowey, who they all could just barely remember from Frisk great, final fight to break the barrier, and how it had slowly been realized that Flowey was not who he appeared to be. 'Possession' was a word Sans had stuttered out, and it filled all of them with terror.

But it only got worse.

Frisk kidnapping; Sans's valiant attempts to save her; the fight in the hall...Sans's devastating injuries. It was all almost more than they could believe, but Sans, lying in Papyrus's arms, was prove that this was no tall tale. Frisk was still missing, caught in the grasp of a being stronger than anything they had ever faced.

"i-i tried, t-tori," Sans choked out. Tears were flowing from his sockets, his chest heaving with emotion. "i-i tried to k-keep...k-keep her s-safe..."

"I know you did, dear," Toriel soothed, keeling beside Papyrus in the tent, where they were still all gathered. "You were very brave, my friend, and I commend you for all you did to try and save our Frisk, but..." Tears gathered in her eyes as well. "I wish that you had not been so gravely injured."

"That freaking jerk of a demon-plant is going to get _creamed_ when I get my hands on it!" Undyne growled, fists clenched. "I'll tear it up by the roots if I've got to! No one messes with my friends! GNAAAAH!"

"Undyne, please," Asgore calmed. 

"...Sorry. I'm just so...so _pissed!_ "

"So what are we going to do?" Papyrus spoke up softly, his hand soothing over Sans's skull like he had been doing for the last hour. The story of all that had happened to his brother cut him to his soul. He wanted to protect the smaller; hold him and never let go. "Frisk is in danger. We can't just leave her in the hands of a villain." Sans shuddered in his arms and Papyrus held him a little tighter.

"We have to find her!" Toriel sniffed, her head falling into her hands. "This...This creature means her harm."

"Maybe I can find her," Undyne offered. She turned her gaze down to the injured skeleton in their midst. "But I'm going to need a way down into the underground. The cave in made it so we can't get through."

Sans looked up, sockets wide and fearful, but there was something else there. Something...determined. "i-i'll help."

"Brother," Papyrus scolded, "you are in no condition to be going anywhere. This...thing did something truly horrible to you..." His sockets welled with tears. "I don't want to lose you Sans..."

"pap...if i d-don't try, we're going to lose frisk..." Sans looked back up at Undyne. "tell me what...what you need me to do."

"Teleport me into the mountain."

"Undyne, I feel that is unwise-" Asgore began, but the captain cut him off.

"It's our only option."

"At least let Sans rest a little longer," Papyrus pleaded. He knew Frisk's life was in danger, but if Sans forced his soul to channel magic in his current condition...they couldn't be certain what would happen to him. "He needs to be stronger." Sans shivered again, and Papyrus began to wonder if it were from cold or pain. "...Please..."

Toriel nodded sadly. "Another day. We need Sans's help, but we can't risk his life. He and Frisk are both important; we can't choose between them. Frisk is strong, she can hold her own. We will just have to hope that she is alright until we can rescue her."

Sans was trying to pay attention, but exhaustion had begun to tug him down into a numbing sleep. He slowly fell limp in Papyrus's arms to the gentle muttering of those around him. His mind fixed on his worries for Frisk.

* * *

 

Frisk wasn't sure where she was. 

It was a dark and formless place. 'The Void' something in her head provided. She had woken up here, having lost consciousness shortly after witnessing the Forgotten's...terrible act. The image of a vine being forced through the center of Sans's soul would be an image that would forever haunt her nightmares. There was no way he could have survived, and that realization filled Frisk with pain and despair.

She had not seen the Forgotten since her waking, but she could feel its presence in the darkness. Dark and foreboding; ever-watching. But at the moment, Frisk didn't care. She knelt in the darkness, hands covering her face as she mourned the death of her friend.

Sans.


	9. Gullible Fish and Lying Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this posted! I went away for winter break and didn't really have time to do much writing. It's funny, I have to be IN school with LESS time on my hands to get anything done.
> 
> This entire story, as I am sure you all know, is for Zeragii specifically, based on her amazing graphic novel DeeperDown. This chapter is even more for her in that it focuses a lot on Sans and Undyne. No, not in a romantic way! And I know that Zeragii is very fond of the interactions between these two characters. I tried my best!

Undyne kept her word and allowed Sans to rest for a solid day and one solid night. The small skeleton was terribly weak, but his stuttering was less prominent, and he only flinched a little when he was touched. His soul bothered him a good deal, from what Undyne could see. He often sat with a hand clutched to his chest, pressed firmly and bunching up his shirt directly over the spot she knew his soul to reside. Sans ate very little, and slept a lot; so much so Undyne truly began to think he would never be able to help in their search for Frisk.

But he continued to manage to surprise her.

The morning of the second day, she spotted him making his way out of his tent toward her, leaning heavily on Papyrus's offered hand. His legs were trembling visibly, his smile gone but eye lights focused and determined. Papyrus eased his brother forward, and Undyne quickly rose to her feet, leaving the fireside to meet the skeletons halfway.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked kindly, her gaze shifting to Papyrus for the answer. But this time, Sans answered for himself.

"we gotta go get the kid," he breathed shakily. "g-gotta get her and bring her back. get her safe."

Undyne frowned, studying him. "You can barely stand."

"you can c-carry me."

She could. If he was okay with it.

"How about you getting back out once your done teleporting me in?"

"we'll cross that b-bridge when we get there. we're running out of time, undyne. we gotta get to her before it's t-too late." He winced, fighting off some terrible memory. "that thing won't think t-twice about killing Frisk."

That decided Undyne's mind. "Okay. Have something to eat and then we'll head up to the barrier."

"g-got it, chief."

* * *

 

It's a few hours later, and Undyne, Papyrus, Alphys and Sans are standing just outside the barrier's caved in entrance. It's mid-day, the sun warm on their backs. Sans is looking meagerly stronger, having eaten and napped in Papyrus's arms on the way up the mountain. He still looks like shit, Undyne thinks, but there's really nothing they can do. Searching Sans's expression, and receiving silent permission, Undyne leaned forward and pulls Sans into her arms, balancing him against her hip like she had seen Papyrus do on so many occasions. This close, she can feel him shaking. She wonders if that's just a part of him now; that he'll forever be a stumbling, trembling monster.

"You ready?"

"r-ready as i think i'll ever be," Sans replies. He seems uncertain as to how to hold on to her, his hands hovering over her shoulder and chest before he reluctantly shifts his arms loosely around her neck. "...this okay?"

Undyne nods, swallowing a lump in her throat at the pure unsurety in the other monster's voice. "Yeah. Yeah, you're just fine." She glances at Papyrus, seeing the other skeleton wringing his hands nervously. "I'll send him back as soon as he catches his breath."

Papyrus smiles weakly in thanks. "Be careful."

"We will be."

"love y-ta, bro."

"I love you too, Sans."

"see ya, alph."

"G-Good luck, S-Sans. Don't f-force your magic, o-okay? Come b-back to us once y-your sure you can h-handle it. A-Alright?"

"yes, m-ma'am."

Alphys blushed, before glancing shyly up at Undyne. "C-Come b-back s-soon."

"You got it, Alphys. I'll be back before you know it, Frisk in tow! Fuhuhuhu!" Undyne looked back to the skeleton in her arms. "Okay, Sans. When you're ready."

Sans closed his eye sockets, his trembling worsening slightly as he tried to concentrate. His magic reached out, feeling the world around him, sensing where they were and where they needed to go. 

"hang on," he murmured, and in a zap of teleportation magic, Sans and Undyne disappeared in a flash of blue.

* * *

Undyne stumbled back into existence on the other side of the barrier, stomach turning and head spinning as she tried not to tumble to the ground and take Sans with her. She had never experienced on of Sans's 'shortcuts' herself until now, and the sensation was both jarring and disorienting. She caught herself with a shoulder against one of the cave's rock walls, mindful to keep Sans away from anything that might unmeaningly hurt him. The skeleton was clinging to her neck, face buried in her neck as he breathed raggedly, tremoring violently.

She gasped a few breaths, concern forcing her to recover quickly. She bounced her arms, jostling Sans ever so slightly. "H-Hey...you alright?"

"nnnnh," was the weak, pained response.

"You hurt?"

"n-no...jus' feel kin'a sick..."

Undyne stood up a bit straighter, turning her head to face him, her voice rising a bit in panic. "Hey, hey, hey! Don't puke on me, okay?!"

"nh...w-won't."

"Okay." She wasn't sure she believed him. Slowly, carefully, she lowered him so he was sitting on the floor with the cave wall at his back. e was sweating, his soul glowing weakly in his chest. His breathing was still uneven, making his chest heave up and down unsteadily. He stared over her shoulder a minute as she crouched beside him, regathering his focus, before his gaze settled on her face and he gave a weak smile.

"tha' was r-rattling..."

For once in her life, maybe just because she was so tense and any joke was a relief, Undyne huffed a laugh, smiling ruefully. "Yeah. For you and me both."

Sans set his arms beneath himself and pushed himself up a little straighter. "you o-okay? that was a little rougher a trip than usual."

"Yeah, I'm fine. You rest here a minute and once you've got your breath I'll wait for you to make it back before I-"

"i'm not g-going back."

Undyne froze. "...What?"

Sans stared back at her.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR-" She winced as her voice echoed all around them, quickly forcing her tone to a hissing rasp. "What do you mean you're not going back?!"

"i lied," Sans admitted. "i only had enough strength to get us in here. there's no way i'm getting out of here for a while, a l-long while."

Undyne swore, standing and pacing. "Dammit. Dammit, DAMMIT!" She fisted a hand against the rocks, Sans watching her through half-lidded sockets. "What were you thinking, Sans?! This is no place for you! You could get hurt! Or dust!"

"so could you."

Again the captain froze, her gaze losing its anger. 

"that's why i lied," Sans continued weakly. "i knew if i told you i wanted to help look for frisk, none of you would let me. there'd be no way you could take on the demon without help, and i knew i'd only be able to get you and i inside the mountain. together, we might have a chance."

Undyne remained quiet for a very long time, thinking over what he had said. Finally, she sighed. "I'm pissed at you," she commented, growling.

Sans nodded tiredly. "i know."

"You're probably going to get hurt."

"i know. but i got to find frisk."

Undyne fell silent again. "This is a really dumb idea. The dumbest you've ever come up with."

"maybe. but it's worth the risk. you can either accept my help, or l-leave me here unprotected. s'up t-to you, captain."

Damn skeleton.

Undyne groaned, moving to sit beside him. "Fine. You're coming with me. Don't die, and I won't neat you up for being an idiot."

Sans released a chuckle, closing his eyes to finish regaining his breath.

"deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not super long, but it's something. I'm amazed by how many comments have been left! THANK YOU!


	10. A Promise

Sans was a lightweight in Undyne's arms, nothing but a pile of trembling bones that she feared would turn to dust if she couldn't get him to calm the hell down. His trembling, which had seemed to have gotten better, reaffirmed itself as they made their way into the Judgement Hall. The first thing Undyne noticed about the place was that the beautiful golden light had faded to a sickly grayish green, like the very atmosphere had died and was slowly decaying. A short ways in she noticed how the tiling had been torn up, and going by how Sans shivered against her side as she slowly made her way through convinced her that here was where Sans had fought the... _thing_.

And here, Sans had lost the purity of his soul.

She could feel it, his battered soul beating weakly against her ribs. It made her want to tear something apart, thinking of how Sans had been violated and hurt, in a way no monster should endure, let alone survive.

"You doing okay, there, buddy?" she asked. Her voice echoed around them. Sans didn't answer, but his breathing hitched slightly, and Undyne came to an immediate halt. They needed to get out of this cursed place, but she couldn't ignore the way Sans's body was twinging, his small chest heaving in short little spurts like he wasn't getting the air he needed. He was panicking. "Whoa, whoa, whoa; okay, now...Easy, Sans." She awkwardly raised her free hand to rub at his spine beneath his shirt, trying too sooth him. "Easy, buddy. Breathe. You gotta breathe, man, or it's only going to make you feel worse.

He was trying; Undyne could feel he was. It wasn't doing much good. Hell, if they weren't even a hundred paces in from where they had arrived and this was how he was going to be, Undyne felt her enthusiasm and confidence in their mission sink a little lower.

"Will it help if I get you out of here?" she asked. When he didn't answer again, she gave him a little shake.

"h-huff-?"

"Will it help if I get you out of here?" she repeated.

Sans buried his face further into her shoulder and nodded, a desperate, pained sound sounding deep in his throat. That was all Undyne needed to hear. She took off again, at a run this time, making her way all through the hall until, finally, they found themselves out in a dreary gray hallway. Sans almost instantly slumped against her. Out of worry, or maybe as a means of comforting herself, Undyne kept rubbing his spine, slowing her pace to a walk.

"See, punk? We're out. But you got to get a hold of yourself, okay? Freaking out isn't going to do any good to either of us."

"s-sor-ry..." A soft, hitching little word. Like he didn't have any energy for anything else.

"Shit. You need food, don't you?"

Sans somehow managed a half shrug.

Asgore's house was at the end of this gray area. Surely he'd have something to eat stashed away; they'd only moved out of the mountain a short time ago. Something had to have been left behind.

Grimacing, Undyne continued forward, Sans, now thoroughly exhausted, falling asleep on her shoulder. She balanced him there, mindful to let him rest. Poor dude was in pretty bad shape. Papyrus would never forgive her if she let something happen to Sans.

Speaking of which...

With her free hand, Undyne pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts a little, finding Papyrus's name and selecting it. The phone rang twice before Papyrus answered, just like always.

"Hello? Undyne?"

"Yeah, Paps, it's me."

Papyrus sounded relieved. "Oh, thank goodness! Alphys and I were beginning to worry. When will Sans be rested enough to come back out?"

He sounded so worried and stupidly, stupidly hopeful that Undyne felt bile rise in her throat. Her words burned, making her feel like a cruel friend. "Sans won't be coming back out for a while, Pap."

"What?! Why not?!"

"He tricked us," Undyne said simply. "He doesn't have enough magic to get him back out. He wants to help me find Frisk."

"B-But...h-his soul..."

Sans was an idiot. How could he do this to Papyrus?! Then again, how could they let something so terrible happen to Sans that he would feel the need to lie in order to find Frisk? That he would be hurt so badly that he would rather dust himself than let Frisk stay in the hands of that monster that had taken her. Undyne swallowed.

"I'll protect him, Papyrus," she promised. "I won't let anything happen to him."

Papyrus remained quiet, probably working through his thoughts and emotions. Then, softly, he whispered. "O-Okay. I trust you. Be safe. Both of you." And he hung up.

Undyne repocketed her phone, adjusting her gentle hold on Sans's sleeping body.

God. She hoped she could keep that promise.

 


	11. Food and Healing

"Hey...Sans, come on...Wake up for just a sec, okay? That's it...Almost there...Come on, buddy..."

A familiar voice gently coaxed Sans from his unconsciousness, something about the novelty of it tugging him back from sleep. It was a voice that was usually rough and loud, but was now soft and quiet. Wrong, in his personal opinion - that voice shouldn't sound like that - but it was also soothing and calming. It warmed his damaged soul and carefully nudged him to wakefulness.

Sans opened his eyes, his eyelids feeling heavy. "mmmnh?" He blinked dazedly, looking up at the blotchy hued figure above him. Blue and red. Huh. "u-undyne?"

Undyne breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank stars. I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to wake you the hell up."

The skeleton shifted slightly, discovering that he was lying down. Not on cold tile or hard stone, but on something soft and spongy. Blinking a few more times, finally getting his gaze into focus, Sans realized he was lying on a mattress in a gray bedroom. Asgore's, his brain supplied helpfully. The room was anything but cheerful, and it was relatively empty after the king had packed most of his belongings away, but Sans preferred it to the judgement hall. He preferred anything to that golden chamber.

Undyne nudged his shoulder, recapturing his attention. Sans looked up, and Undyne held out a few wrapped candies in front of him on the palm of her hand.

"If I help you sit up, you think you can get these down?" she asked.

Weakly, Sans nodded.

"Okay."

Carefully, Undyne slide an arm under the skeleton's shoulders, helping him sit up slowly. Dizziness plagued Sans, and he reached out with a jolt to grip her back, his eye sockets clenching shut to try and ease his vertigo. "sh-shit..."

"Yeah, I bet."

Once he was upright, it became apparent that he wouldn't be able to stay that way on his own. Undyne sat down on the bedside, allowing Sans to lean against her. He wasn't heavy, and he was quite small, she was easily able to manage him while also helping him unwrap the candies.

"I found these in the courtyard storage. Guess the old goat liked to stash sweets in easy reach, no matter where he happened to be." Sans's shoulders hitched in what Undyne could only assume was a chuckle. "They might taste a little like moldy farts, but, hey, it's better than dusting, right?"

Sans nodded, shaking fingers taking the candy from Undyne's own steadier ones, and bringing them to his teeth. In a sparkle of green healing magic, most of which Sans wasn't even able to absorb, the skeleton devoured the treats. His bones gained a little more of their usual luster, the gray replaced with a slightly marred white. Task accomplished, Sans gave a sigh, leaning a little heavier against Undyne's side as his eyes became heavy once more.

"Oop, okay," Undyne propped him up as he started to slip. "Not yet, bonehead. You've slept enough for a little while. Try to stay awake until I've properly checked you over."

Sans gave a groan of protest, but forced his eye sockets open again, looking miserable. "nnnnh."

"Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who decided to tag along while teetering on the brink of death."

"hn."

Undyne gave a weak smile as she used her arm around Sans to carefully tip the drowsy skeleton back a little, exposing his front to her reach and inspection. She bit her lip, trying to decide whether this was a good idea or not. "Sans?"

"hnm?"

"May I check your sooooOOH HEY!"

Sans nearly fell off the bed in his haste to struggle away, panting and whimpering. There was a wild look in his gaze when Undyne finally managed to force him back onto his back, pinning his wrists to the mattress.

"Stop, Sans, stop! I'm not going to hurt you! It's me! It's Undyne!"

He froze, rib cage shuddering as he gasped for breath, all energy gone. But he did seem to recognize her now, in a dazed, hazy sort of way. His wrists kept squirming weakly in her grasp, not really in an attempt to get away anymore, but simply because he didn't like being held down. Undyne took a shaky breath herself, unnerved by his behavior.

"O-okay. I'm guessing that means checking your...Internal checks are out. We'll have to settle for shallow checks. That okay?"

He didn't nod, but he didn't protest either.

Undyne took another steadying breath and performed a check on her friend.

 

***SANS**

***HP  0.67/1**

***0 ATK**

***0 DEF**

***Feels Helpless**

 

Slowly, so as not to seem unkind, Undyne gently let up on the other's wrists. Sans watched her tiredly, shakily pulling his arms to his chest and gripping the front of his own shirt. He was trying to regulate his breathing, with minimal success.

Undyne sighed. "Dude...you're a mess."

"i know...s-sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. Just...I'm sorry, okay? I'll try to be a little less assertive in this, okay? I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"...o-okay. sorry."

"I know. Me too."

They sat in silence for a while, both with their own private thoughts, though they were both thinking very much the same thing. How could Undyne handle the beast that had taken Frisk alone? Sans was obviously not up to the task. What was Undyne going to do? Leave him behind? Drag him along? Neither option seemed any good, and time was running short.

"...undyne?"

"...Yeah?"

"did you...call papyrus? when i was asleep?"

"...Yeah, punk...I did."

"...thanks."

"Don't worry about it. Was the least I could do." She frowned. "But when this shit is all over with, you've got some explaining to do, alright? And not just to me. Got it?"

A weak 'yes ma'am' was all she got in answer.

Another long pause.

"You, uh...got any ideas for how this is going to work?"

Sans shifted, trying to sit up on his own before giving up. "...one."

Undyne perked up. "Yeah?"

"...yeah."

"...Ooookay, gonna share?"

Sans held a trembling hand out for her to take, motioning for her to help him up. "we need...to go to the labs..."


End file.
